Tea and biscuit days
He’d been dead a long while now of course, your dad. But that didn’t stop you thinking about him.
Looking at the photo, it was easy to bring him back. Easy to remember him. Crisp cream trousers, with a neat, stylish pleat. Cool white shirt, long sleeved. Braces and belt. Black leather. Brown sandals with a big thick buckle and clean white socks somehow. A cigarette always in his hand, wrapped between yellow-stained fingers, a permanent feature. That would get him in the end, those cigarettes, but he never knew it then that day when the photograph ws taken, his hair slicked back, all glossy and black, and only just greying at the sides. A beaming, cheeky grin, sparkling eyes, alive and grey. That was your dad, all of this.
Continue reading